


Burn

by GoldenTruth813



Series: Realizations [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: EWE, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Smut, happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has been in love with Harry for quite awhile, just waiting until Harry realizes a few things of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a sequel to my Drabble Realizations after several people asked me to give Draco his happy ending. You don't have to read that to understand this but it does help set the tone.

It is half past six when Draco floos into Harry's flat, dusting the soot off of his trousers before straightening himself up. He smiles when he hears the familiar banging of pots and pans followed a bit of cursing coming from the kitchen and he follows the sounds knowing exactly what he will find.

He makes his way down the hallway and into the kitchen easily, then leans his shoulder against the doorway watching as Harry bites his bottom lip and stares into a large pot on the stove.  

"I hope you didn't burn dinner, Potter, this wine was very expensive I'll have you know."

Harry jumps at his voice, somehow managing to look both embarrassed and pleased, before slamming the lid back on his mystery pot of food with a bit more force than truly necessary.

"Right, well you're early. You weren't supposed to be here until half past six and I didn't so much burn it as.....well alright it is a bit ruined."

Draco can't help but laugh at the confession, and his curiosity over Harry messing up diner, something he's never done, gets the better of him as he walks over and lifts the lid. "I'm not even going to ask what that was supposed to be. And I'll have you know it _is_ half past six.  Some of us just can't keep the time."

"Bollocks," Harry mumbles, banishing the grey goup from the pot with a quick flick of his wand. "Right listen I'm just gonna pop out and pick up some takeaway from that little place downtown that you like. I won't be long, just...... make yourself at home."  He trails off sound awkward but his smile is enough distraction to keep Draco from focusing too much on that.

"Make sure it's-"

"Not too spicy, light on the sauce plus an extra order of naan. Yeah, Draco, pretty sure I know how you like your curry." The look he gives Draco makes his stomach flip and he has to turn around and pretend to busy himself in the cupboard as he searches out two wineglass. Moments later when he hears the familiar crack of apparition he lets out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and turns back around to stare at the empty kitchen.

Lately it has become increasingly harder and harder for Draco to keep his up resolve. He'd sworn months ago, after he'd finally realized just how deep and very not platonic his feelings for Harry were, that he would wait. He wasn't about to ruin the best thing he had going on. Not unless he could be entirely sure Harry felt the same way.

Except as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months Draco had begun to think he might be losing his mind. Because it was as if Harry was suddenly everywhere, and the vague awareness he'd once held of Harry had been shattered to pieces and replaced with such a clarity of mind that it sometimes ached just to look at him.  His heart would pound and his hands would sweat and he'd always make up an excuse for his increasingly noticeable behavior.  Harry hadn't said anything but Draco had begun to suspect that he wasn't quite as good at hiding his feelings as he wanted to believe.

He no longer deluded himself into thinking it was lust, because while as far as he was concerned Harry's body looked link it might as well have been made for sex, he'd realized pretty quickly that he didn't want to simply consume the other man; he wanted to be consumed. It wasn't about a desire he thought he could quench but rather about the Harry shaped hole in his heart that he wanted to fill.

Also long gone were the days where he could pretend that Harry was just so good that he only wanted to be near him in the hopes that some of it might rub off on him; as if his mere presence could somehow absolve Draco of his sins. 

  
He remembered the days after Harry’s rejection as a child when he’d thought Harry was nothing but flaws and failure, and he remembered the days long after where he’d been so blinded by gratefulness and guilt that he’d thought Harry was better than him. Except now he knows the truth; Harry is no different than him, and while Harry’s heart might be full of the kind of bravery and kindness Draco doesn’t think he possesses, he also sees the dark parts of Harry that cannot heal, the parts he hides even from himself, and he loves him all the more because of it. 

  
Shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts he begins to putter around the kitchen as he waits for Harry. He isn’t sure why but he finds himself drawn to corner of the kitchen where Harry has his kettle and tea set up on a rather ornate red tray. He smiles to himself as he reaches out and picks up the tin of loose leaf earl grey that he knows Harry keeps solely for him, as well as the packet of lemon digestives that only Draco likes to eat peeking out of the cupboard. And it hits him so suddenly, like a bludger to the head, that there are signs up of him everywhere, almost as if he belonged in Harry’s flat. It isn’t just the tea and digestives but the grey blanket thrown over the armchair that Draco knows appeared a few days after he’d been complaining of the cold last month, or the subscription to Wizards Weekly, a rather boring and posh magazine that Harry relentlessly teases Draco about reading, yet for some reason regularly appears in the flat on the end table as if just waiting for Draco to curl up with the blanket and read it.

  
The crack of Harry apparating back into the kitchen is all it takes to shock Draco out of his train of thought and he spins around to grace Harry with a dazzling smile. “Smells delicious, I’m starving.”

  
If Harry notices anything off in Draco’s behavior he doesn’t say anything. In fact the whole evening seems to progress like almost all of their other, now regular, Friday night dinners with easy conversation about their work week, speculations about the upcoming Quidditch match, and too much good food and wine. 

  
Despite the comfortable atmosphere something seems almost off, yet Harry hasn’t questioned him and it isn’t like Harry to ignore something if he suspects there is anything wrong and so Draco tries to push his thoughts to the back of his mind trying to focus on Harry’s story. By the time they’ve polished off all the food they’re almost done with their third bottle of wine and Draco is just about to pour them each another glass, figuring they may as well finish it, when that niggling feeling returns and he realizes it hasn’t been him that’s been acting off all evening it’s been Harry.

  
“Did you know we have a regular?” Harry asks suddenly, twiddling his fingers nervously under the table, not taking his eyes off Draco. Draco feels the confusion and surprise spread across his face and his stomach suddenly feels like it’s in his throat.

  
When Draco doesn’t say anything in response Harry continues to speak. “A regular. At the curry place. Our curry place,” he says, and Draco definitely notices the catch in Harry’s voice. “As soon as I walked in the door it was like they were expecting me and I didn’t even have to give them our order. They knew we’d be in, and they knew exactly what we wanted before I even ordered." 

  
Draco’s fingers tighten around his wineglass as he takes in the flush on Harry’s cheeks and the tension in his body, and Draco isn’t sure whether he wants to laugh or cry.

  
"We go there a lot, Harry,” he says gently, strangely both confident and nervous about where this conversation is going.

  
“Yeah….yeah we do. But I’ve never had a regular with Hermione and Ron anywhere. I’ve never even had a regular anywhere on my own either. Only with you. It’s…..it’s you. Fuck I’m not good at this,” he all but shouts, pulling on his own hair and suddenly looking so very young. “You know I’m not good at this! It’s just….it’s you Draco, it’s all you. And you’re everywhere I go and everywhere I look and everything I touch reminds me of you and it’s still not fucking enough because every bit of it is just a remnant of you or a reminder of where you’ve been or where you’re going but it’s never you.” 

  
By the time he’s done ranting Draco has risen from his chair, moving to stand next to Harry who had begun to pace the kitchen while speaking. “Is that all?” Draco asks softly, his hand hovering so close to Harry’s cheek his skin burns just from proximity alone.

  
“Yeah…yeah that’s about it,” Harry answers, voice shaking as he stares at Draco.

  
“That’s good, because I’ve been in love with you for ages.” Draco tells him earnestly, choosing that moment to close the distance between them, pinning Harry against the kitchen cupboard with his own body.

  
Harry’s mouth fall opens, and he seems frozen, simply staring at Draco. After a few moments pass with nothing but the sound of their shallow breathing filling the kitchen Harry finally speaks up. “How long?”

  
“A long time, Harry,” he answers, surprised at the vulnerability he hears in his own voice. “But it doesn’t matter how long I’ve loved you….what matters is how long I want to keep on loving you.”

  
“Oh. _Oh_.”

  
“Scared, Potter?” Draco teases, unable to resist the opportunity, and finding himself suddenly uncomfortable with the sheer intensity of Harry’s stare. It isn’t fair, he thinks, the way Harry has always been able to pierce through his every defense without even trying. 

  
Just as Draco had hoped, his words have the desired effect as Harry’s mouth quirks up at the side and his eyes seem to widen with mirth. “Oh fuck off,” Harry laughs softly, placing his hands on Draco’s hips and pulling their bodies even closer to together so that nothing is separating them but their clothing, both of them relishing in the others already apparent arousal. 

  
“Oh, Harry,” Draco whispers as he tilts his head down just enough so that his lips are ghosting across Harry’s ear. “I want to do all kinds of fucking tonight.” 

  
At those words Harry’s control seems to snap and he lets out such a desperate whine Draco is actually caught off guard as Harry desperately grabs at his shirt pulling him into a kiss so bruising in intensity that Draco’s knees feel weak. 

  
How long they stay like that Draco has no idea, all he knows is that by the time Harry pulls back his glasses are crooked, his lips swollen, and his hair looks even messier than usual which much to Draco’s chagrin only makes him want to put his fingers into it and never let go. He briefly wonders how he must look but he thinks if the desperation he feels is any indication he can probably guess.

  
“Harry-” Draco begins but is caught off guard as he feels the sudden pull of side-along apparation and he stumbles briefly in surprise, feeling himself being steadied by Harry’s strong arms. 

  
Harry for his part looks both deeply embarrassed and almost dangerous, his green eyes heady with so much arousal that Draco quickly abandons all thoughts of teasing him again. He is struck quite suddenly by the realization of just how much Harry wants him, how equally matched their desire is, and the knowledge unhinges something in Draco that he has been trying to hide since the moment he had realized he was in love with Harry.

  
It only takes a moment before Draco gives up all hope of maintaining his control and instead realizes that everything he has ever wanted is standing in front of him. He no longer has anything left to lose except maybe his heart, but if he’s honest with himself he is quite sure Harry took ownership of that a long time again.

  
“Harry,” Draco breathes out his name softly as if whispering a prayer.

  
Something about Draco’s demeanor seems to break down the last of Harry’s embarrassment because the second his own name leaves Draco’s mouth their bodies are crashing together again and they fall to the bed in a tangle of arms and legs that all seem equally determined to touch as much skin as humanly possible.

  
As they shed their clothing, shirts and trousers are thrown to the ground in undignified piles, because neither one of them is willing to lose just one second of touching. Draco thinks this is how they were always mean to be; fearless and uninhibited.

  
He’d once thought Harry was like an all consuming flame, destined to devour him. And he hadn’t cared about the consequences, had just been inexplicably drawn to him despite believing he might one day burn in the process. But now, laying here with Harry in tangle of limbs and sweat soaked skin he knows the truth. 

  
Harry was never the one who was trying to consume him, it’d been Draco all along. Draco was always the one consuming everything in his path; his desperation to find something solid enough to ground him so powerful that he’d destroyed everything in his path. 

  
For the first time Draco thinks he knows what it feels like to love something so much you’d die for it, for them.

  
Harry begins to beg, writing beneath him with his legs wrapped around Draco’s waist and his head thrown back on the pillow clutching Draco’s arms tight enough to bruise, and he isn’t sure how he manages not to explode. He hadn’t known it was possible to feel so much all at once. He’d gone so long trying not to feel at all that his heart feels like it might quite literally separate itself from his body.

  
Harry looks up at him through green eyes that seem all the more vulnerable without his glasses and bites his bottom lip.

  
“I love you.” Harry tells him and Draco has the unnerving sense that without having said a word Harry still somehow knows his every thought. If any words could break him it is those. Draco turns his head to the side trying to steady his breathing and blinking back the tears he refuses to cry.

  
Draco wonders when the roles got reversed because he’d sworn all along that he had to be careful not to hurt Harry. Yet he wonders now if maybe he’d waited to admit his feelings so he wouldn’t hurt himself. 

  
“Make me yours, Draco. Show me what we’re meant to be.”

  
Harry’s words cut through Draco’s ruminations and his thoughts are replaced by a sense of rightness so pure and simple it takes his breath away. His purpose has never been more clear.

  
The quiet spell of fragility is broken and it is as both of them understand that this thing between them was as inevitable as breathing; it is neither delicate nor weak, they are _unbreakable_. 

  
In a world that has done nothing but take Draco has found a reason to give, and give he intends to do as he captures Harry’s mouth once more. There is no more tenderness or reverence, rather something has shifted and instead there is an intensity in their touches that almost burn.

  
Draco drags his fingers down Harry’s side, pressing them back into Harry’s arse and twisting and pumping until Harry’s hands are clawing at the sheets and his chest is heaving. Draco hesitates for only a moment, the idea of watching Harry lose control so tempting, but he knows the only thing he wants more than that is to lose control with him and so he moves his cock to Harry’s arse, pressing himself in with one quick movement unable to hold back any longer. Harry groans loudly, his hands digging into Draco’s arse and his eyes squeeze shut as his falls open. Draco musters the little bit of self control he still has to not move, leaning down to kiss his way across Harry’s face; first his forehead then his eyelids before trailing his way down his neck where he stops to bury his face pressing his lips to the pulse point in Harry’s neck. 

  
Several moments pass with no sound except their breathing before Harry begins to rock his hips and it’s all the permission Draco needs to lose himself once more. Draco knows he won’t last very long because it’s all just too much, with Harry’s bright eyes focused on his as if trying to memorize him, and his hands entwined with Draco’s as they move their bodies together as one.

  
It isn’t very long before Draco comes first, and he’s surprised at the things coming out of his mouth as he slams into Harry as if his life depended on it. His body feels heavy and his heart light as he pulls out, crawling up the bed. Harry looks momentarily confused until Draco pulls Harry’s back against his chest so that his cock is nestled against Harry’s arse and he reaches around to wrap one hand around Harry’s cock and picks up a steady rhythm. 

  
He can tell Harry is close and so he reaches his other hand down to easily slide two fingers back inside his slick arse as he begins to run his tongue along the shell of His ear. Harry nearly convulses clearly not sure if he wants to thrust forward into Draco’s hand or back against the fingers buried deep inside of him. He settles on a frantic rocking rhythm that has him keening as he comes screaming Draco’s name loudly and Draco could almost swear he can feel Harry’s magic in the air crackling like static as he whimpers still rutting into Draco’s hand slowly. 

  
Moments later Harry manages to turn himself around, curling against Draco’s body and throwing a leg over him as he presses his face into Draco’s hair.

  
“Mmmm, love you,” Harry says happily, his voice sounding heavy, and Draco finds that he isn’t surprised that Harry is both a cuddler and incredibly affectionate after sex. Draco lifts his hand to place it on Harry’s back rubbing up and down in a motion probably more soothing to himself than to Harry who is already on the edge of sleep.

  
“You were worth it you know. Worth everything,” Harry whispers, and before Draco can respond he feels the heaviness in Harry’s body and knows he’s fallen asleep.

  
“So were you, Harry.” Draco whispers softly, kissing the lightening bolt scar on Harry’s forehead. “So were you.”


End file.
